


i’d walk a thousand miles (if i could see you)

by babygrxxt



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: I suppose, M/M, cute online relationships are the bomb, harry is a photographer, long distance flirting???, louis needs to learn to capitalise, they're all flirty and adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babygrxxt/pseuds/babygrxxt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which harry is a popular tumblr blog who asks people to talk about themselves and louis is just a small stream in love with an endless ocean<br/>-	<br/>Harry posts things like, “Talk to me about where you’re from” or “Talk about who you love”. Louis initially goes with anonymous, but then Harry posts for the anon to come off and talk to him. Louis works up the courage eventually, and a blossoming romance begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i’d walk a thousand miles (if i could see you)

The first time Louis has a mini heart attack is the moment he discovers one of his favourite blogs, _bananas_and_bandanas,_ has a tagged/me.

When Christopher Columbus crash landed on America, you could say it was a _good_ discovery. But thiswas so unprecedented, so colossal in its impacts, so shaping of Louis – a British teenager living in Lincoln, Nebraska – and his life that it could be considered nothing less than a _monumental_ discovery; a discovery that was only made greater by the realisation that “ _shit, this guy is actually really hot_ ” and “ _shit, this guy has a fucking cockapoo what in the hell_ ”.

He was slightly regretting logging onto Facebook immediately after he found the tag and sending a barrage of caps and emoticons and pictures of hot banana kid to Eleanor, because he knew that as soon as she logged on she would see all of them. She would then ultimately promise not to make fun of him for it but bring it up every single fucking day after that whilst laughing at Louis’ expense, and, really, she didn’t need any more ammunition to use against them considering they’d known each other since they were in torn up dungarees playing pirates with wooden swords.

Louis sighed and closed over his laptop as two of his sisters – Daisy and Fizzy it seemed to be, although it was difficult to tell in the flurry of brown hair and screaming – burst into his bedroom, punching each other about and pulling on the others’ clothes.

“She stole my phone, Louis!” It _was_ Fizzy, and she was red faced and frowning so supremely the wrinkle in between her eyebrows reminded Louis of the Grand Canyon. His fingers were twitching over the laptop, but it wasn’t worth it to open it whilst they were here; he’d probably enjoy relentless teasing over the fact that he was lusting over a boy he didn’t even know.

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” Louis asked instead, although this phrase was getting quite old after twenty odd years of repeating it; he knew why his sisters were there, and it was to barrage him with declarations of war against each other until finally he reached his epiphany and sorted it all out for them.

Daisy rolled her eyes in her sister’s direction. “She stole mine first,” she protested. “ _And_ she texted David!”

“Well that’s just not on, right enough,” Louis hummed agreeably, although he had the sneaking suspicion this was the first time he’d ever heard of ‘David’, and also the feeling that he didn’t really like the fact that boys were causing arguments between his sisters. They were too young for this sort of thing, or at least they were in his mind. “Fizzy, I think you might be in the wrong here.”

Fizzy glanced, mouth open in muted frustration, at first Louis, then Daisy, and then let out such a bone chilling, blood curdling scream and ran out of the room. She stomped down the stairs to Johannah, who Louis could imagine just returned home from a twelve hour shift at work and probably had tired eyes and calloused hands and stains on her scrubs.

He sort of regretted not spending more time doing interrogations, but he had other things to attend to; the moment Daisy smiled in self satisfaction, turned on her heel and returned to her bedroom, Louis opened up the laptop again, continuing to scroll down the tagged/me section, then going back up, then down again, because there was only about ten selfies in that thing and they were all from the same angle and all decidedly clothed and that wasn’t really fair, was it.

Tumblr was the only thing on this earth that seemed to be exclusively _Louis’._  Daisy and Phoebe got to be pretty, popular, basically Instagram famous; Lottie was the best artist he had ever met; Fizzy was breathtakingly intelligent and Ernest and Doris were babies, so you couldn’t really compete with that. Sure, Louis was alright at football and he could sing a bit in the shower in the mornings, but what he was truly successful at was running his 4,000 follower humour blog _w_estside_ , where he mostly came up with sarcastic quips about the unfair rules of the school system or called out everyday acts of fuckery. Things like that.

He discovered _bananas_and_bananas_ one late night when he couldn’t sleep. He had broken up with Eleanor that day after coming to the rather sudden and completely – ironically – unexpected realisation that he was gay, and so he was feeling slightly confused about everything and anything. The only thing he _wasn’t c_ onfused about was the fact that somebody new had just followed him, and before he knew it, his followers jumped from 200 to 4,000 within those few hours in bed. He messaged the blog after that to thank him for the promo, because obviously that was what had occurred, and he got only a winky face in response.

There were a few thing Louis looked forward to talking to after a hard day’s work at university, and one of them was logging on and scrolling through the monotonous blue of his dash. He was training to be an English teacher, and the only thing holding him back from his ambitions was his total lack of interest in revision of any kind.

The one good thing about English, in Louis’ opinion, was that it came naturally to him; he could bluff his way through most exams, something that only served to irritate the very attractive and silent partner he worked with the majority of the year, Mr. Zayn Malik. Liam, however, who he supposed should be called a frenemy, marvelled that Louis could get into university barely opening a book for his A Levels, and often recruited Louis for a variety of schemes Liam wouldn’t have even _dreamed_ of a few years ago. Louis wished he could say he corrupted the boy and that it was nothing to do with his obvious and blatant attempts to get the attention of the new law student in the university, Sophia Smith, but unfortunately Louis wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t blind either.

Louis didn’t manage the strength to message that blog again after that one time, and the two never talked over the next couple of years. But he _did_ manage to get together a small clique that he laughed and joked with after school hours, or sometimes during, earning thousands of notes in the process as his ever adoring audience lapped up their banter and teasing. Louis considered his use of just the right amount of emoticons and the smallest amount of proper grammar was more of an acute art than any of what Shakespeare produced, but unfortunately his English teacher didn’t agree, and he was sitting with a very dismal ‘F’ on his latest essay and the crashing feeling that maybe he was going to _have_ to revise to even get through the year.

But, for now, it was Tumblr time.

He pushed his books off his desk and crossed his legs, curling up under the cover of his bed. Johannah would arrive in a few hours with his dinner, but until then he was free to do what he did best; procrastination.

After watching more than his fair share of YouTube videos, courtesy of his best mate Niall, catching up on _Orange is the New Black,_ chomping his way through several slices of chicken and a couple roast potatoes, solving two more disputes between his sisters, staring for half an hour at the beautiful banana boy and typing all of a hundred words of his do-over essay, Louis Tomlinson realised that he was significantly bored, perhaps even more so than he had been in his life. He had already studied the contours of the green eyed boy’s face with more scrutiny than the maths textbooks years ago that he barely remembered anyways, and if he had to, he could probably reconstruct the pictures from memory.

He was getting to the stage where writing a goddamn _essay_ was seeming like the only viable option to cease the unending tyranny of a quiet night when his eyes were drawn down to the notifications that hovered in the corner of his dash.

“ _bananas_and_bananas_ just posted,” Louis read out, his voice low to avoid being heard and also because he believed this boy deserved the reverence of hushed tones. He clicked on the notification and was brought to the other blog, which absolutely reeked of hipster and health eating and fresh fruit binging and Soul Cycle.

And fuck, now Louis _knew_ he’d spent two long looking at those selfies because now even the most cliché of hipster-dom couldn’t stop his heart fluttering when he thought of the other boy on his laptop late at night, typing out little pieces of himself to share with the entire world (although the entire world shouldn’t have him, Louis decided; only certain people should be blessed with his presence because even through a picture Louis could tell he leaked sunshine from his every crevice).

‘ _Can’t sleep,’_ the post read. Louis mumbled same under his breath. ‘ _Someone talk to me.’_

For a reason Louis couldn’t quite understand (for he had always been a relatively confident person, never afraid to make a complete fool of himself in the name of humour or sing his lungs out in a room filled with judgemental students and teachers alike) Louis found himself sitting there for ten minutes, staring at the blog, refreshing every couple of minutes. Nobody asked the boy anything, or perhaps he answered them all privately, but Louis preferred to imagine the first option. He preferred to imagine that they were the only two awake at this hour, and that he was the only person that post had been referring to.

His finger hovered over the conveniently placed ‘ask’ button, and eventually, with a sharp inhale, he pressed it.

 _‘Ask me anything, little bananas_ _J’_ the boy had typed. All Louis could think was that he liked being called little banana, and also fuck that fucking smiley face.

Louis swallowed thickly, suddenly regretting the full tub of Jaffa Cakes he had eaten in the past hour, for they seemed to be reappearing in his throat. His hands rested against the keyboard, the keyboard that was so familiar to him for it was the same one that allowed him to create new humans, new people, whole new worlds dedicated to him and his family and his happiness; worlds that he could control. Thinking of all of those stories, he allowed himself to write, trusting nothing but his inborn ability to spin words into a perfect line.

 _‘you said for someone to talk,’_ Louis typed, licking against his chapped lips nervously. _‘would help if you mentioned what about. love, anonymous .xx’_

(It might not have been anything like Robert Frost or Nietzsche but it was fucking close enough.)

Checking at least five times that he’d clicked the small anon button, Louis eventually sent the ask away out into the world wide web.

“Well, that’s it,” he murmured to himself. “That’s my life over.” Because to be honest, he was regretting it the moment his finger left the mouse.

Every second that passed another scenario ran through his mind. What if Tumblr lost the message, and the boy therefore never replied, and Louis thought that he was just being ignorant and it was one big misunderstanding, like how all those rom-coms show? What if the boy was scrunching his eyebrows together, scrutinising the message with his big green eyes and wondering why the fuck someone he’d never spoken to before was sending him a message? What if Louis had judged him completely wrong, was blinded by his beauty, and has accidentally befriended a complete fucking twat?

His palms were sweaty when he got another notification, and with baited breath, he refreshed the page.

There, right up at the top beside the picture of a girl with purple hair and the fluorescent light spelling out ‘Love’, was a response to an anonymous question.

_‘Alright, Mr Specific ;) Hmm.... How about a birthday? The best birthday you’ve ever had.’_

He had a five hundred character limit to come across as quirky, but not quirky enough that he would be construed as strange, and flirty enough that he would seem appealing but not whorish, and interesting enough but not nerdy.

Louis must’ve typed and retyped it several times before sighing, erasing it all once more, and keying in a message so quickly he barely had time to read over it before he pressed ‘anonymous’ once more and hit send.

_‘i accept your challenge, curly. ;) my best birthday probably would’ve been my 18 th, and it was the best because i got piss drunk for the first time. not that I hadn’t drunk before that, because I had, but this was the first time i was sad doing it. things weren’t going very well for me tbh and turning 18 didn’t seem that big a deal but then one of my twat best mates dragged me out to a party and i got fucking plastered, literally. I forgot my name. i forgot my way home. long story short because i only have 500 chars, i woke up half naked in an airport terminal. don’t ask me how .xx’_

He hadn’t told any of his family members about that birthday, because he knew it would just worry them. He knew his mother worried enough over him anyways, and he didn’t want to give her any more grey hairs that she couldn’t pay to get dyed.

Five minutes later, at precisely 1.38am on a Monday morning when he had school the next day and he knew this was a bad idea, the boy responded.

_‘You told me not to ask how, so here’s a question for you, if it isn’t too personal. 18 wasn’t a big deal to you? What happened with that? (Also, Curly???) ((Second also; COME OFF ANON.)) That’s all.’_

Louis considered that this was pretty rude and inconsiderate of the boy to ask, but then he remembered that this was the internet, and he was nothing but a circle with sunglasses on it probably coming across as completely pathetic, and he remembered that none of this could ever come back to bite him, not unless he was tracked down by his IP address or something, and he wasn’t doing anything illegal to warrant that.

_‘suddenly realised id been lying about my sexuality a few days after my girlfriend told me she loved me for the first time (came with a crush on her brother too). pretty fucked up, and when things are fucked up i drink. age isnt a big deal for me – dont think im ever gonna grow up!! (yes, curly, because you have lovely curly hair and its nice and shiny and i wanna touch it) ((NEVER. I SHALL LIVE IN THE DARKNESS AND TAUNT YOU WITH MY MYSTERY.)) .xx’_

The boy’s response came faster than the other ones had.

_‘Not as bad as me. The first time I came out to someone it was to a very tired looking bald TESCO manager at 4am in the morning whilst buying Tampax (you asked me not to ask, now I require the same of you). Please tell me you got with the brother after that, or are you too good of a person to throw away the moral compass? Growing up is fun – you get to have sex!!! (I would say you could but that would be weird because you could be a forty five year old pervert in Alaska right now so it would help if you...) ((CAME OFF ANON SO I COULD BELIEVE YOU AREN’T A FORTY FIVE YEAR OLD PERVERT AND WE CAN EXCHANGE STORIES OF AIRPORTS BECAUSE BELIEVE ME OR NOT I HAVE A FEW MYSELF)). P.S. the suspense may kill me. I’m serious.’_

Louis grinned, his face lit up with the light blue of the screen. He felt more awake than he had for days.

_‘you cant expect me not to want to know more (although i understand to do that publicly may mean being known as the tampax guy for the foreseeable future so i condone it this one time). the brother was pissed that i broke up with his sis so no, didnt get with him. also im not having sex right now anyways so your point is shite. believe me, im no forty year old pervert. if you could see me, im actually very attractive. (the next one is my last message before post limit, and i have school tomorrow. any specific requests?) .xx’_

The answer popped up within moments.

_‘I do not want to be the next tumblr meme, thank you very much. I’m far too advanced for that ;). GASP. But you sound so flirty! :O How dare someone of your calibre be locked within chastity? (just one, although it might be a bit much. Not sure if you can handle it...) ((Here it is: your name, and a promise to talk to me again tomorrow.))’_

Louis smirked whilst typing the next message. He kind of didn’t want this to end.

_‘unfortunately not everybody thinks im as wonderful as you do. as for your request.... i say yes to the second part. as for the first, youll have to wait to tomorrow. patience is virtue you must learn dear... (dont know your name either. what kind of person doesnt know their tumblr crushs name?) ((wouldnt miss it for the world, curly.)) .xx’_

He knew the boy was probably ruining his blogging aesthetic to talk to Louis, and he would probably delete these messages the second Louis logged off just to ensure his hipster status was maintained, but for just a brief, shining moment, this felt like something special.

‘ _Bet you if I knew you in real life I’d find you wonderful. Also... WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME. MAYBE THIS IS WHY YOU’RE CALIBATE, YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A TEASE. (Sorry, that was uncalled for.) (P.S. Totally called for.) I’m your tumblr crush? Or are you just saying that to make me blush? Because it totally might’ve worked.’_

Louis went to send another ask, but was met with nothing but the ask limit. He considered going off anonymous, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. The other boy seemed to realise this at the same time, and a text post appeared;

‘ _Shit fuck damnit you’re gone now, aren’t you? STUPID TUMBLR ASK LIMIT. I’M GOING TO HAVE A STRONG WORD WITH MANAGEMENT. (My name is Harry, though. If you wanted to know. Might not have. I’ve told you anyways.) ((P.S. I really liked you calling me Curly. I hope you show up tomorrow, but if you don’t that’s okay I suppose... we all got busy lives and all.))_

That night, Louis flopped against his cushion and squealed like a teenage girl, desperately trying not to cry out of delight.

Because really. He was a grown ass man, and this was a curly haired banana obsessed teenager he was talking about. The two didn’t even go together, really (except they did, and that was what was so infuriating).

*

 _bananas_and_bandanas_ posted a text post: **_‘Talk to me about where you’re from.”_**

Louis – being the vaguely lazy yet creative type – immediately went onto Wikipedia and copied a line into the ask box that was now one of his bookmarked favourites. Yes, it was that serious.

‘ _Lincoln topped the CDC list of healthiest U.S. cities in 2008, and in 2013, was #1 on the Gallup-Healthways list of "Happiest & Healthiest" cities. heya curly ;) .xx’_

Harry – and yes, that name suited him – replied almost immediately.

‘ _ANON YOU’VE COME BACK TO ME. Now you’re completely obligated to tell me your name or come off anon, because as much as I love that little sunglasses smiley-face I think I’d love your face much better.’_

Louis grinned, knowing that he had to leave for school in an hour or so but not really caring that he was only half dressed.

‘ _it depends on how much you really really want to know my name, curly. also what makes you think youve earned the privilege to see my beautiful face? i could be like medusa, but different, because instead of being ugly id be so hot id blind you. seriously.’_

He only had time to go and get a hastily created sandwich from the kitchen in between replies.

_‘I had a feeling you’d be insanely hot. And if I turn to stone or get blinded, it will be worth it, just to gaze upon your features, beautiful one. Also, about your name I REALLY REALLY REALLY WANT IT LIKE MORE THAN I WANT CHANNING TATUM OR PATRICK DEMPSEY SERIOUSLY GIMME YOUR NAME NOW. Or even better COME OFF ANON (I have a feeling I’ve used caps so much with you they’ve lost all meaning, and for that I apologise.’_

In between gasps of ‘is this really happening’ because seriously, Banana Boy had a feeling he – Louis – would be hot and that was fucking awesome, Louis managed to type in a response.

_‘im going to do one better’_

_‘Huh?’_

With a heavy feeling in his chest and the insane hope that the selfies he had in his own tagged/me section would be attractive enough to secure this beautifully curly haired boy, Louis neglected to press the anon button the next time he messaged the blog.

‘ _surprise, curly .xx ;)’_

It was amazing how quickly Harry typed when he wanted to, honestly.

_‘ YOU CAME OFF ANON OH MY GOD I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT NOW. But I won’t. Because we’re definitely at least two thousand miles away from each other and my lips don’t stretch that far.’_

_‘im going to try not to make any innuendos about your lips stretching but its hard styles, it really is’_

_‘I can’t believe you’re off anon. And – oh my holy fuck – I WAS SO RIGHT. Your eyes.’_

_‘what about my eyes, curly? careful you dont offend me, otherwise ill make my way from lincoln to wherever you are and beat your ass’_

_‘London. And nothing offensive, I swear. More like I just had an asthma attack over how blue they are. You’re actually quite breathtaking, Louis. It’s incredible.’_

His stomach went flip-flop and his hands suddenly became so sweaty it was difficult to type. He wondered how he was going to go to school with this red a face.

_‘well, arent you just the most flattering guy on tumblr? london? wow. youre a long way away from me. thought for some reason you were closer.’_

_‘Feels like we’re closer, doesn’t it Louis? Feels like we’ve always been close.’_

_‘i would love to sign the ‘best friend forever’ covenant with you and sign it in blood but unfortunately i need to go to school. ill see you later, curly .xx ;)’_

_‘BLASTED AMERICAN SCHOOLS HAVING DIFFERENT BANK HOLIDAYS. (Talk to you later tonight? For more information on Lincoln, of course. We got slightly off topic when you got hot and non-anonymous.)’_

Zayn might or might not have had to grab his friend by the shoulders and shake him to get him to calm down on the walk to school that day. When he asked what it was that got him so excited and outright _giddy,_ Louis just laughed more and tapped the side of his nose.

“Curly,” Zayn could’ve sworn he heard him say, but maybe it was just a cough.

Louis was so weird sometimes.

*

Harry changed his layout in the next couple of days, a few days in which Louis didn’t really pay attention to the main body of his blog, his attentions confined entirely to both their inboxes and fan mail section when they hit ask limit again and again and again. Now that he had a chance to properly examine the new theme, he noticed that there was barely any writing on the blog at all anymore; instead, there were photographs of mismatching sizes, some of them black and white, some sepia, some muted colours. They all had at least a thousand notes, but there was no source.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows together. His fingers hovered over the keys, and after taking a few moments to figure out where the ‘ask’ button had disappeared to, he typed a fast message to the boy.

_w_estside_ **asked** _bananas_and_bandanas ‘did you take those, curly??’_

_bananas_and_bandanas_ **answered** _w_estside ‘Haha yeah. Do you like them?’_

Did he like them? Louis wringed his hands together. How was he supposed to say “they’re absolutely fucking amazing oh my God is there no end to your talents what the heck hot boy” and still sound cool and calmly detached from the entire situation?

Answer: he couldn’t. It was impossible to remain cool when Harry was on the other end of the computer, waiting on his reply.

 _‘theyre alright’_ Louis typed, inhaling sharply. The air is cutting in his chest, and he blamed the pain for making him press the backspace. He began rewording the message. _‘actually, they’re pretty goddamn amazing. youve got a gift, curly! you make London look so beautiful.’_

 _‘It’s beautiful all by itself,’_ Harry replied, and Louis smiled. He was talking to an optimist, and that much was clear – nobody thought London was beautiful except for tourists and Americans. _‘Gives me a lot to work with. And wow. You actually have no idea how amazing it is to hear that.’_

Louis grinned. _‘everybody agrees. look at the amount of notes you have!!! seriously curly, don’t be delusional’_

Harry replied quickly, and Louis could imagine him vividly grinning over the laptop like a Cheshire cat, an expression Louis would soon mirror once he read, _‘Well your opinion is the only one that matters to me, Blue Eyes.’_

 _‘you know what curly?’_ Louis responded. _‘im beginning to think we are becoming quite good friends.’_

 _‘Becoming?’_ Harry questioned. _‘That hurts, Louis, truly. I thought we were already friends.’_

That night, they exchanged phone numbers and became friends on Facebook. Louis was waiting on Harry’s text of confirmation that he had put the number in right when a text came through.

It was Zayn.

 **Bradford Bad Boi:** YOU JUST FRIENDED A CURLY HAIRED GUY ON FB

 **Sexy sexy me:** yeah? your point?

 **Bradford Bad Boi:** THATS THE ONE YOUVE HAD A BONER OVER FOR WEEKS NOW

 **Sexy sexy me:** zayn dont you dare do anything...

Another ping.

 **Banana Boy:** Some guy called Zayn just messaged me on Facebook asking if I’ve ‘cyber banged’ his best friend yet.

Louis literally face-palmed.

 **Sexy sexy me:** dont mind him. hes just a complete fucking twat. dont even know why we are friends, to be honest ...

 **Banana Boy:** I said yes, obviously.

 **Sexy sexy me:** WHAT HAVE YOU DONE STYLES SERIOUSLY THATS GONNA BE ALL OVER THE FUCKING SCHOOL BY THE MORNING

 **Banana Boy:** Would that be a problem for you? People thinking we’ve banged?

 **Sexy sexy me:** ‘cyber banged’, styles, dont get ahead of yourself. and no – not exactly

 **Banana Boy:** I mean, as far as I’m concerned, it might even be a good time.

 **Sexy sexy me:** are you propositioning me harry????

 **Banana Boy:** This is why I should really use more emoticons. I would’ve added a wink face to the end to make it sound less perverted.

 **Sexy sexy me:** if you were on this continent though i might consider it

 **Banana Boy:** That’s actually what I’ve been meaning to tell you...

Louis gasped, gripping onto the phone more tightly in his hands. The dots at the top of the screen taunted him. It pissed him off to no end knowing that those damn dots knew what Harry was typing and he didn’t.

 **Banana Boy:** Guess who’s visiting family in Topeka, Kansas three months from now?

 **Sexy sexy me:** thats only like 200 miles away!!!!!!!!!!

 **Banana Boy:** Was kind of hoping a local American beauty would be able to show me around. If they were up for that?

 **Sexy sexy me:** i think i just had an asthma attack. i dont even have fucking asthma

 **Banana Boy:** Sorry?

 **Sexy sexy me:** dont be. this is fucking amazing, harry, honestly.

And it was – the grand-daddy of all great surprises, better than five childhood Christmases put together.

Ten minutes later, Fizzy knocked loudly at his bedroom door and screamed, “Stop fucking _squealing_ Louis, you sound like you’re giving birth!”

“Maybe he’s dying,” Lottie suggested, whilst Louis just grinned widely and buried his pink face into the pillow. “Who’re we gonna get to do our hair now?”

Harry was coming Harry was coming Harry was coming.

Best. Day. Ever.

*

“You’re very perky this morning,” Zayn commented, trying desperately not to laugh as Louis pulled him up the street on the way home from school. Usually Louis enjoyed a slow walk back – he said something about it being more peaceful walking through Lincoln with the blaring car horns and the flickering street lights than back at home where he had six screaming siblings and a mother who just wanted them all to shut the fuck up. Today, though, Louis had nearly yanked his goddamn arm out of its socket.

“Harry’s coming Harry’s coming Harry’s coming,” Louis announced in a sing-song voice. A couple little old ladies with walking sticks on the other side of the road heard his exclamations and smiled knowledgably at each other, and Zayn probably would’ve found the whole thing adorable too if he hadn’t been hearing it every single. Fucking. Day.

“I know,” Zayn sighed, finally managing to retrieve his arm. He rubbed where Louis had grabbed it, wincing at the bruise that formed there. “You’ve been counting down for three months. Like a Harry Styles advent calendar.”

“But he’s a cool guy, isn’t he?” Louis cooed, his eyes sparkling so bright it was almost comical. Seriously, he was like one of those anime characters Zayn had just started getting into. “You’ve been talking to him more now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I have,” Zayn muttered, and that only triggered flood walls to break down, memories pouring out from behind them of Harry in the middle of the fucking night texting him about Louis and what Louis liked to talk about and what Louis’ favourite colour was and then ‘ oh shit time zones fuck fuck fuck sorry’. And no matter how many times Harry sent a dimpled selfie and apologised, Zayn was still pissed that his beauty sleep had been disrupted. “All the fucking time.”

“He’s so amazing, that boy,” Louis said, and Zayn wasn’t sure if he was thankful that Louis had finally admitted to himself he had a crush on the British boy, or cursing the very revelation itself. Because, like he said, he never heard anything other than football, beer, Harry Harry Harry. Sometimes all at the same time. Apparently Harry wasn’t very good at playing sports, or holding his liquor. “Isn’t he amazing, Zayn?”

“Of course,” Zayn responded obediently. “What time you picking him up at the airport?”

They had planned this all out – Harry was coming to the States a couple days before the rest of his family, and Louis was going to bring him back to Lincoln for that time so that they could finally bond in real life. Then they would endure the amazingly perfect two hour drive back to Kansas’ capital city, and everything would be dipped in sepia tones and utterly picturesque.

“Seven o’clock tonight,” Louis declared, grinning from ear to ear. Zayn wondered if his face was going to split right in half. “You still up for driving me? Don’t think I could go sober to this, not when he looks so good in photos...”

Zayn opened his mouth to say of course he was going to help his fuck boy of a mate out, but Louis wasn’t finished just yet.

“And I mean, most people look even _better_ in real life and he’s always dressed so well and he’s got this really nice mouth and white teeth but they’re not bleached, just natural and fuck. He’s perfect, Zayn, and I’m really just a small pond in love with a massive fucking ocean, that’s what I am.”

And this was just Louis defined, really, because he’d already started drinking the vodka he kept in his school locker in apple juice cartons and he was getting all deep and philosophical and self depreciating. For such a confident motherfucker, he really was depressing when he was drunk. Zayn sighed once more, and he thought briefly that if he continued in this same vein, he’d be all out of air before he even said goodbye.

“You’re a mountain, that’s what you are,” he said, grabbing onto his best friend’s shoulders, looking him straight in his slightly hazy eyes. “And Harry obviously sees that, I can tell by how much he fucking talks about you and asks about you and coos about you. You two met online only a couple _months_ ago, Louis, and you’re already head over heels. I don’t think you understand how amazing that is.”

“But what if he doesn’t like,” Louis motioned down at himself. “ _This_ me. I’m different online, Zayn, and probably so is he. The difference is he probably downplays his angel-like qualities whilst I’m just really good at hiding my asshole tendencies.”

“You’re not really that good,” Zayn pointed out, receiving a dig in the ribs from Louis. “Ouch. No, but seriously. Harry seems pretty observant. And you’re an alright guy most of the time, just whenever you get on ... well, any alcohol you get a bit ...”

“A bit what, Zayn?” Louis said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Defensive,” Zayn settled on. “But that’s okay. You can just sleep this all off before seven, and when I pick you up, the only reason you won’t be able to drive is because your hands are shaking with nerves, okay?”

Louis nodded, swallowing thickly. Zayn let out a breath of relief.

*

“How you faring, mate?” Zayn asked from the driver’s seat. Louis was piled in the back of his Peugeot 108, trying desperately to get changed into one of the crumpled shirts that Zayn had probably abandoned during one of his various hook ups.

“Ernest just had to fucking puke on me, didn’t he?” Louis groaned, and Zayn laughed at him in the mirror. He couldn’t quite find the hole where his head should go, and he kept screwing up his face as he shuffled through the fabric. “And what’s _on_ all these? Is this fucking spunk, Malik? Really?”

A grin appeared on his dark features. “I am just a common whore, Tomlinson, remember?”

“Course I remember!” Louis replied. “Why do you think I’m friends with you?”

(This was truer than both of them cared to admit. They had met in a trashy dive bar in which Louis hit on Zayn one too many times at the bar and they ended up making in the back of this very car. But then Zayn woke up the next morning entwined in Louis’ arms and realised, “Fucking hell what the fuck I’m straight you looked like a fucking girl with my beer goggles on” and that was just awkward for all involved, really.)

Zayn shook his head, turning into the airport parking with a clunk of the breaks and an unhealthy sounding splutter. “You better hurry up,” Zayn said, looking down at his watch once he parked the Peugeot in a rather tight space he’d never be able to get out of without Louis’ help. “Lover Boy will be here in ten.”

“Oh FUCK!” Louis’ voice came from the back of the car as he recoiled immediately from the seat. “There’s definitely spunk here. That’s so gross.”

‘You were trying to bang me the day we met’ hung on Zayn’s tongue, but he would rather not remind Louis of that and receive months of teasing once more for kissing a boy when he was straight, so he kept it to himself.

“Are you quite done criticising my ride?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in the rear view mirror.  Louis was already half out the door now, and Zayn laughed, stepping out with his – admittedly – best friend.

“Thanks for bringing me,” Louis muttered as they made their way to the entrance. He was the kind of guy who could make a wrinkled grey Henley shirt and baggy tracksuit bottoms look good, and Zayn fucking hated him for it. “Means a lot, you know.”

“Not a problem,” Zayn replied. “It’s not completely selfless though. I wanna get a look at him myself, see if he’s right for you and all.”

“If Harry’s not right,” Louis whispered breathlessly. The fan above the airport entrance blew hot air onto their hair, and he immediately cursed it quietly, going to fix his hair. “Then I’m forever alone. I’ve resigned myself to that fact Zayn, and I’d appreciate it if you –”

And that was the first time Zayn Malik had ever seen a truly speechless Louis Tomlinson. He didn’t even have to turn around to the escalators to see who he was looking at, though he did anyways.

The first thing Louis noticed about him was the tightness of the black jeans around his long, thin legs. They seemed to go on for miles, and when Louis finally made it all the way up, he near had another heart attack.

He was wearing a black and white shirt, but it was only buttoned to just above his naval, and Louis could see e _verything_ of his tanned torso; the tattoos that decorated the expanse of his skin, the softness of the surface, even his goddamned nipples. A hat was perched confidently on the side of his head, and gentle curls hung at the nape of his neck, poking out from under the fabric.

And he was _breathtaking._ Utterly and completely, in every conceivable way. Louis felt his knees go weak, and from the look of the boy, he was experiencing the same thing.

Louis didn’t understand the way the boy’s green eyes – as beautiful as they had been in the photos, perhaps even more – shone when they walked towards him, like they were beholding something amazing. He wasn’t dressed particularly well, he was pretty sure Zayn’s spunk was on his sleeve, and there was still remnants of vodka on his breath. But Harry – he was swallowing thickly, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

And then he tripped, right into Louis’ arms.

“Oops,” he said, blushing gorgeously, his cheeks a beautiful flaming red. Louis grinned at him, his stomach doing flip flops at the contact, little pinpricks of electricity flowing through his veins. He passed the hat that had fallen off over to the boy, but not before muttering a response.

“Hi.”

Zayn would’ve puked in the goddamn hat if the two boys wouldn’t have remained utterly oblivious to his presence. They were adorable, standing dumfounded looking at each other, but there was places to be and a girl with bright red lipstick waiting on a booty call from Zayn, and he really wanted to get some that night to make up for the fact that he had no one who looked at him like that.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said, finally, holding out his hand whilst he placed the hat on his head with the other. Louis held back a laugh, but he shook the boy’s hand, his fingers enjoying the sensation of his warm palm. His hands were so _big_ and _long_ and _soft_ and they had a fucking cross on them and maybe Louis shouldn’t be talking about crosses and swearing in the same sentence.

“I’m Louis,” Louis said pathetically, because he couldn’t really think of anything to say. “And I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.”

“I’m Harry,” Harry replied, just as sappily, his lips beautiful and plump and there. “And one day, I’d like to meet your mouth.”

“Can that be today?” Louis went to ask, but he was barely on the second word before Harry was kissing him – he was kissing him and Louis had to stand up on tiptoes and Harry was crouched over – Louis’ hand was on the bare flesh of his skin and it burnt underneath his fingertips – Zayn was faking puking in a bin somewhere behind them but Harry tasted vaguely like mint and coffee and that was all Louis was focusing on at that moment, he’s sure Zayn would understand –

“Huh,” Harry said, when they finally broke away.

“Huh,” Louis mocked, his hand still resting on Harry’s chest, the other one drifting cautiously towards the outline of his hips. “That wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“In my humble opinion,” Harry muttered. “It was fucking amazing.”

“Huh,” Louis said, cocking his head to the side teasingly. “Suppose we might as well try again. You know what they say – practice...”

“Makes perfect,” Harry finished.

And that was the second kiss of many.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the usual length of my oneshots, but I promised my best friend I'd do this one so here's a sort of oneshot/drabble/message thing. Please leave kudos and comments, and I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas all xx


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